


Decisions of Impact

by silberstreif



Series: TF Oneshots by silberstreif [4]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: F/F, M/M, Moral Dilemmas, hard decisions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-21
Updated: 2014-08-21
Packaged: 2018-02-14 02:54:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2175429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silberstreif/pseuds/silberstreif
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>New information from Vos clearly show an unknown base, visited by Starscream. Prowl shouldn't hesitate to give the order, but he does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Decisions of Impact

**Author's Note:**

> Beta: Starfire201

 

** Decisions of impact **

 

To be an Autobot meant to be steadfastly loyal, to never waver in their belief to the Prime, to be convinced that everything they're doing is for the right thing. At least that was the official line that made everything so simple. For many soldiers, it remained that simple as they walked to the battlefield and started to slaughter the Decepticons as if they hadn't been once one race, siblings to the very sparks. For most, it was enough to quell doubts and hesitations.

Prowl was not one of them. He wandered the grey line that in reality was an endless field, trying to define loyalty, belief and when the right thing weighed more than the sparks of other bots. "Trying" was the keyword, because more often than not he was forced to decide without being completely sure. At best he could say that his data supported one thing over the other, but sometimes... sometimes he could to nothing but to guess, decide and pray.

These were the moments that destroyed his spark bit by bit, leaving hopelessness behind. Yet, they came him, and waited with blue optics so full of misplaced trust, again placing the burden on his shoulder. He sighed, reading the datapad for the fourth time, already knowing every glyph.

"So, in the middle of the former city state of Vos, an unknown structure has been built." The two spies in front of him nodded, while Jazz who leant on the wall, didn't move. He just waited. "The unknown base is patrolled by several fliers, most of them seekers. Two deca-cycles ago, Starscream was sighted at the premise. Additionally, several transports have been observed at the base. No goods have left as far as you could make certain. Did I miss anything?"

"No, sir," said the left agent, a blue and purple flier. The other spy, an orange truck, nodded.

Prowl stared at the datapad. This looked like one of Starscream's nasty plots. Maybe weapons development, maybe something else. But whatever it was, it was important to Starscream – and that normally meant important to the Decepticons. In turn, the Autobots should destroy it and better fast.

But something... there had been reports. Reports of fliers and younglings and civilians being rescued as Vos had been destroyed. What if they hadn't left the city? They didn't have enough data. They didn't even know if the base was neutral or not. All they had was that Starscream had visited and that it was in Vos. Was that enough to call in an airstrike?

Truthfully, the answer should've been "no". But they were at war and any strange, unknown base is an enemy base. Starscream's visit had decided it. Yet, here he was, hesitating, fearing... there was a good, very good chance that this wasn't...

He looked up from the data pad to Jazz, who hadn't moved at all. For a moment their optics met, then Prowl dismissed the two spies. "Wait before the door."

They left without a complaint and the office fell into a deep, heavy silence. Prowl read the report again, trying to find any information that would make the decision something based on more than a picture of a Decepticon visiting a strange base.

Jazz moved away from the wall, and walked around the desk towards the tactician. Without touching each other, they read the meagre information again. The saboteur waited.

"We have to attack," said Prowl finally. "Or we could lose Autobots."

Jazz nodded. He had nothing to say, really. This was Prowl's decision alone, his duty as the highest tactician and the next after Optimus Prime. A Prime who shied away from these decisions. Jazz would do what Prowl commanded.

"But there is an 18.235% chance that this is a base full of younglings." Prowl tried to be calm, but speaking it out loud hurt. He slumped over his desk, shuttering his optics. "And I will give the order to attack... not only despite the risk of killing younglings, but because of it."

The saboteur put a soft hand atop the doorwings, caressing the edge. His visor was a dark blue, his face heavy with sadness. "If they live there, they're surely all being indoctrinated by Decepticon propaganda..."

Prowl tensed, trying to repress the emotions as he followed his thought to its damnable end. "So, it doesn't matter if it's a hidden weapon, a training centre or a youngling centre. For us it's all the same. A future danger that has to be destroyed now."

Jazz slid against him his back, arms reaching around Prowl's body. "Yes, Prowl," he whispered. "As you command."

"It's wrong," said Prowl, just as quietly.

"It is." Jazz kissed the back of his helmet. "But if they're younglings, at least their sparks can rejoin Primus unsullied."

And not become like them. Twisted, monstrous, committing atrocity after atrocity, while everything was destroyed.

It was a weak consolation and Jazz knew it. But there wasn't much else to offer as the truth stared them into the face: They were willing to kill innocent younglings to protect their own bots.

Jazz kissed his mate again. "Maybe we should use the new blue plasma bombs of Wheeljack."

Which were powerful. Terribly so. If a bot was in their blast radius, he would be incinerated before he realised anything was amiss.

Before he could feel anything. It may not seem like it, but it was all the mercy they, Prowl, could offer.

"I'll arrange everything," said Prowl. "You just have to choose the agents."

A nod. "I will."

The decision had happened. It was over, he let it go and relaxed, continuing with his work. Only the pain in his spark didn't leave. Probably never would. But the warmth of Jazz's frame at his back, how he accepted him, the gentle hands... made it bearable.

The knowledge that despite everything, they both could still feel love.


End file.
